Lipstick everywhere, and other lessons from church

It is amazing the power of a coat laying across a church bench. The strength of the fabric is not enough to stop us physically, so it must be the underlying threat it poses - "You move my coat, and you will suffer . . . badly." We don't dare cross it. We won't even sit next to it. One coat = one bench. Amazing. I marvel at this because we have yet to make it to church before 5 minutes to the hour. Though we are like the majority of the congregation, somehow those doggone coats save places for everyone else who is late. Dang it! In this way, the 18th century English custom of inheritable church pews is still alive and well. As newcomers, we have not yet earned the right to have our own padded bench that is reserved just by virtue of our soon-to-arrive presence. And so we sit in the back. On hard chairs. That move whenever the kids lean forward. And tip back and hit people in the face.

Despite the drawbacks (sore bums), sitting in the back has allowed me a new perspective and a perfect view of the entire chapel. I have picked up some very important lessons that I feel responsible to share:

1. Lipstick is excellent entertainment. Whether it was Anna smearing her smuggled lipstick all over her lips (and beyond) when we weren't watching, or Elizabeth pretending to make up her Dad with over sized plastic sesame street makeup, it all makes me giggle uncontrollably. This always gets me really nasty glares from the nearest well-behaved family. I swear that they slip something into their kids' breakfast to get them to behave like that. I propose mandatory drug testing at church.

2. Knee-length brown velvet suits paired with light blue peter-pan collared shirts are emasculating, even if you are just 2 and 5. The one should be self-evident, but I guess its not since I witnessed the suits myself. Knee-length pants (shorts, I should say) with a matching brown velvet vest and 3/4 sleeve brown velvet jacket do nothing to bolster a little boy's sense of manhood, and when you add the blue peter pan collared shirt and the miniature brown velvet bow tie, well, need I say more?

P.S. The historian in me totally appreciated the way these outfits resembled something from the early twentieth century. The man in Sean was appalled and I swear I saw tears of pity well up in his eyes.

3. Most Dad's cannot fix their daughter's hair. At least evenly. I sat one day and watched a dad fix his daughters pigtails. Enthralled, I could not take my eyes off of the process, knowing exactly what would happen. And when she reached back and felt one pigtail on the top left of her head and the other on the bottom right, she let out a scream. And who could blame her?

4. If you sit in the back, you can eat treats and nobody knows. Even if you are 30. And hungry. Nobody can see you. Of course, that evil family with the semi-conscious, well behaved, drugged children might always look back. Just because they just know you are always doing something wrong. Maybe they're just jealous. And hungry.

5. If you are tricky enough to smuggle it into church, your parents are not going to confiscate it. I am always amazed at what comes out of those puffy dresses once we get to church. Stuffed animals, toys, fruit snacks, friends (I kid, kind of). And if it is not making noise or causing a ruckus, it is really worth taking it away? My kids usually gamble that my answer to that question is no.

6. The bladder works overtime during church. If a child knows that he/she will have to sit through an hour meeting, it is inevitable that they will have to use the bathroom. And it always takes a very, very, very long time. But who wants to be the parent whose kid wets the bench? I think you lose your pew rights, even with a coat, if that happens. Of course, who is going to fight you for the toilet-bench? I'm going to be honest, it is a feasible option. If you see us heading for the church in rain ponchos, you know that I am putting my plan into action. (evil smile)